Alternate life
by rayvern
Summary: Fem!Aki as an investigative photographer "meets" Asami


Warnings: fem!Aki

AN: started this because I've a few scenes in my head. Probably one-shot or drabble series.

-oO-

"Asami-sama, I've pulled the story on the Kanagawa trade. It's Taki again," Kirishima says, handing the file to him.

Asami inhales the smoke from his cigarette and glances through the documents and photographs. "How many times has it been this month?"

"Three, sir."

"Are the men getting sloppy or is there a rat somewhere?"

"We're working on it, sir."

"Maybe it's time we go to the source."

-oO-

Aki watches from behind the railing, camera lens between the small opening. It's dark and whatever is showing through the opening is black so it should be relatively safe that she won't be spotted. A few men are waiting by the warehouse. It's almost time. Just then, a black car pulls up by the group of men.

This is it.

A tall, well-built man steps out, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and an air of stern confidence. Must be the boss. The men bow and exchange words before entering the warehouse, leaving the boss and another suit guy outside. The men carries out a carton box and opens it for inspection.

She briefly wonders why they would do this in the open instead of inside the warehouse, but focuses and zooms, finger half pressed on the camera's button, and takes a few shots quickly. Another frame with focus on the faces. The boss is quite good looking- she almost gasps in fear of being caught when he looked in her direction, seemingly looking directly at her, amber eyes alert and a slight smirk curling by his lips. Click.

Something suddenly pulls her backwards around her stomach- "Hee-mmmph..." and covers her nose and mouth with a chloroformed cloth. She holds her breath and kicks and elbows the person behind her, clawing at the hand holding the cloth over her mouth. But her attacker is unmovable and, out of breath and options, she breaths in.

-oO-

She comes to consciousness, cold and wet and dizzy.

"Look at me."

She blinks and squints at the glare of the light against the shadow of a man hovering over her. A hand takes her jaw and turns it up, squeezing slightly to get her to focus.

"Wha... who-" she mumbles, still trying to regain her senses.

"Hello, you must be Taki," the man says, tone almost friendly. "I'm Asami. You've been spying on my operations recently. I wonder who gave you the information?"

Her brain has difficulty processing, the tone and words so at odds with each other. When it hits her (the words, not the tone), she recoils, suddenly alert, and frantically looks around. She is tied to a chair, hands behind her back, still dressed in her baggy black hoodie and cargo pants. It looks like they are in an empty container or warehouse. There is nobody else besides another bespectacled suit guy, standing some distance away.

"Who's Taki?" she asks, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Don't play dumb. Your camera has the pictures. I only want to know who gave you the information."

She shakes her head and stares at him defiantly. "No one. Your men were careless."

"Is that so?" he asks skeptically, hand trailing down her jaw to her slender throat, fingers tightening slowly.

"Yes," she gasps and chokes as her air is cut off.

There is a moment of silence as he stares at her inscrutably. She almost thinks she's going to pass out but his grip relaxes and she can breath again. He trails his hand down her flat chest. She stifles a protest of outrage, reminding herself it was bound and that there's still a chance he wouldn't realise...

"Hey, wait-" she protests, alarmed as a silver flash of knife nears. She stares at him as the blade rests against her throat, hardly daring to breathe. "It seems a bit small if you're going to slit my throat," she says with false bravado.

He smirks and slashes- she squeezes her eyes shut- and there is a tearing sound of cloth and a hot callused palm against her breast. Her eyes fly open in shock.

"How interesting..." he says, staring at her with molten gold eyes, fingers teasing her nipple. "I think we will have fun, Taki-chan. Maybe I can persuade you to reconsider your answer."

She flushes and squirms, throwing herself backwards. He catches the chair (and her) before it topples, bringing his face close to hers. She glares at him. "Don't touch me."

He raises an eyebrow and pinches her nipple in response. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I- I've STDs."

His lips twitch. "I'm serious," she insists.

"We'll see. Night now."

She struggles as the chloroformed cloth covers her nose and mouth again. Darkness prevails.

-oO-

He wasn't expecting Taki to be female. Not many investigative photographers were. More to lose, he supposes. He'd thought she was a pretty boy- fine features, blond hair, blue eyes- dressed in baggy clothes. Until he had his hand around her throat.

"Her details and test results, sir."

Takaba Aki, age 22, freelance photographer, moved to Tokyo six months ago, lives alone, no known medical condition at last check up, current test result is clean.

"I'll be busy the next few days. Call me if anything comes up."

-end chapter-

AN / question: not sure if I should write the non-con sex scene or skip to the aftermath. Any interest in reading further? If yes, which would you prefer?


End file.
